The Other Side(60)

“Ah, no… just…” she stammered.

“Actually, the kids are alone at home and after all this, we are a little scared of leaving them to their selves for too long,” Mr. Bajaj butted in.

“Oh, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting then. This should do. Thanks for coming down. If there is anything else I require to know, I'll call on you again,” Inspector Sawant said, getting up from his seat and ushering them towards the exit.

Mrs. Bajaj almost ran towards the car, turning back and urging her husband to walk faster.

“Pooja, don't get so hyper. We'll be home in half an hour,” Mr. Bajaj said, annoyed again.



The moment she stepped inside the house compound, she knew something was wrong. She could make out from the distance that the front door was open.

“Something's not right,” Mrs. Bajaj proclaimed, quickening her pace as soon as she got down from the four-wheeler. “How's that damn door open? I had locked it, the keys are still in my pocket…” Mr. Bajaj said joining her steps.

“That's not important. Please hurry up… Ayushee!” Mrs. Bajaj called as soon as they stepped inside their house. “Sshh… what if there are thieves inside? Let me alert the police first,” Mr. Bajaj said, fishing for his phone.

“No,” Mrs. Bajaj said and rushed to the kids' room upstairs. Pushing open the door, she faced a vacant room.

“Where are they?” her husband asked, soon following her, panting from the effort of running upstairs. Not bothering to reply, Mrs. Bajaj immediately rushed downstairs. She checked all the rooms, continuously calling out for her children. Mr. Bajaj combed the rooms upstairs and checked the terrace. He joined her when she was about to check in their own bedroom. Just as she neared the window, Mrs. Bajaj slumped on the ground without speaking a word, her entire body shivering from the effort of holding back her scream and tears at the same time.



The Other Side

243 Through her clouded eyes, she saw the curtains fluttering, the windows moving back and forth showing her daughter as she stood motionless looking up at the banyan tree on whose sturdy branch the limp body of her son was hanging from. Even from the distance, she could make out that devilish dark gleam in her daughter's eyes that moved left to right, observing the wind caress her brother's body.



“We have to leave this house tomorrow itself,” Mrs. Bajaj said, her voice still choked as soon as her husband returned from the funeral. “Pooja, get a grip on yourself. We can't find accommodation overnight,” Mr. Bajaj reasoned softly. He was pretending to be rough but his wife could make out the pain inside his chest.

“We'll put up in a hotel till that time. You can ask your colleagues to find us a good place. I no longer want to live in this cursed place, please,” Mrs. Bajaj wailed, joining her hands and falling in her husband's feet.

“All right, Pooja. Get up… ok, give me sometime. May be Shirke can do something,” Mr. Bajaj said, taking her in his arms. “Shirke!” Mrs. Bajaj exclaimed, breaking free from his hold. “Shirke?” her husband asked, surprised.

Mrs. Bajaj swiftly turned and picked up the receiver of the

telephone in their room. She dialed the number. The agent answered almost immediately.

“Shirke, what kind of place have you sold us?” she blasted. “Who's this?” Shirke asked as Mr. Bajaj moved forward to placate his wife. “I'm the mother of that deceased child who was murdered by…”

“What are you talking, madam?”

“You sold us this cursed house with that damn banyan tree in our backyard and now that girl is destroying us. My daughter's going mad… the maid was murdered… my little Ajit is dead… my husband doesn't believe me…”

There was silence at the other end.

“Answer me, damn it!”

“I didn't hide any facts from you, madam. Everything was communicated. You decided to go ahead with the deal. I had informed you that a girl had been murdered there, hung from that tree…”

Mrs. Bajaj sniffled, trying to find her voice between her tears.

“I'm sorry but it was a transparent deal…”

“What was her name?”

“Sorry?”

“What was the name of that girl who was murdered?”

“Oh, I don't remember… wait, yes… yes… her name was… Smita.”

The receiver slipped from Mrs. Bajaj's hand as her husband rushed forward to hold her.

“What? What is it?” he asked.

“Smita,” she said, looking up thinking about her daughter who was chained to her bed.



The Other Side

245 It had been a tough period for Mr. Bajaj, the death of the maid, followed by the police interrogation and before he had time to breath, someone had murdered his son and his daughter had gone mentally sick. It was too much for him to absorb and he found the best way to deal with that was to support his wife and live in a state of denial seeking some plausible explanation for the same. He was a rational man but no amount of rationality would dry up his silent tears that he held within. He was thinking about his dead child while looking out of the open window when he saw four people walking towards their home.